Sunday, 26 June 2016

Is everyone else as excited as me about the forthcoming Blogville Pawlympics? Oh I am so grateful to Arty, Lexi and Christmas for organising this wonderful sporting festival. Those of you who have already seen the Pawlympics Schedule might have noticed that I am down to host an event on August 16th, and some, I know, are wondering what 'Munro Bagging' involves and how you can enter. All is explained below:

Munro Bagging (aka Scottish Mountain Climbing)
This event is one for the adventurous pups (or those who aspire to be).

Background information: In Scotland, a hill over 3000 ft high is called a 'Munro'. There are 283 Munros. If you climb one you are said to have 'bagged a Munro'. To take part in the event, each contestant needs to do just two things:

(2) Send an email to bouncing(dot)bertie(at)outlook(dot)com stating your name, your blog's name, and your chosen Munro (only one Munro per pet allowed), along with a photo of the dog/cat/other. You can create your own picture of yourself at the summit of your chosen Munro, or you can trust to Gail's somewhat rudimentary PiZap photo editing skills and she will attempt to place you on your selected mountain in an appropriately heroic stance. You may wish to consider appropriate attire for mountain adventures in Scotland and dress accordingly in the photo you submit.

All the pictures, with fitting captions, will be posted on my blog on the day of the event. In this contest every entrant will be a winner, but a gold medallist will be chosen according to an obscure and wholly undemocratic a totally fair set of rules which I shall make up on the day devised according to principles wholly in line with the ethos of the Blogville Pawlympic movement (which I can assure you involves a lot less corruption and doping than the human's equivalent event….)

THE DEADLINE FOR ENTRIES IS SUNDAY 31 JULY

*Hints on choosing a Munro: you are free to use whatever strategy you prefer. You may select one at random from the list or research the issue yourself in depth. Perhaps you will go for a mountain that you might be named after (I am thinking of a particular Scottie in Australia), although dogs called Ben will be spoilt for choice. It is important to note that the precise height of your chosen Munro will not impact your success in the contest. Any explanations of your selection criteria will be noted and read with interest and may be used the caption accompanying the photo.

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

As I mentioned in my last post, I haven't been feeling too great lately. (On Monday Gail thought I was getting better, but I haven't been wanting to eat, or do much at all these last couple of days and I'm told another vet visit may be in the offing).

So anyway, I would like to consult my readers on an important matter - the appropriate behaviour to be expected of one's human carer when she (or indeed he) is faced with a poorly pup. I raise the question because, in my opinion, Gail's response to my indisposition has so far been less than satisfactory. Borderline unacceptable, in fact.

For example: We journeyed over to Torridon late on Friday and I was still feeling a little queasy on Saturday morning so, after a brief sniff around the garden, I retreated to a comfy berth on the sofa.

I was imagining that Gail might stay beside me for the rest of the day, to mop my fevered brow and so forth. In retrospect, I guess I was mistaking her for a patient, caring person who might have considered nursing as a profession. That person is not Gail.

"Well Bertie, it's a beautiful sunny day, such as we rarely enjoy in these parts. It would be a shame for both of us to stay in, wouldn't it? Since you look quite settled, I think I'll leave you there on your own for a while and go for a walk along the coast. See you in a couple of hours or so. I'll tell you what, I'll take my camera so you'll have some pictures to put on your blog."

And off she went.

Let me tell you, I was all for refusing even to look at her photos, much less include them in this post. But then I was reminded that it is the EU 'in or out' vote in the UK this week, and that some readers - at least the British ones - might be anxious about the result, and would appreciate the opportunity to spend a few moments contemplating scenes from the UK of great beauty and tranquility, after all the ugliness of the referendum campaign.

Monday, 20 June 2016

Gail says that I was reminding her of Eeyore in Winnie the Pooh, with the mournful eyes and the morose and self pitying demeanour. And truly, when asked how I was feeling, the response, "not very how", seemed quite apt (although rest assured that, unlike Eeyore, I most definitely - and thankfully - had not lost my tail).

So bowls of food went uneaten, and parks went unvisited and on Friday I was finally taken to the V.E.T.

Who said I was running a high temperature (I shall spare you the details of how she found that out…) and probably had 'gastroenteritis'. She said it might be viral or it might be bacterial but she'd give me some antibiotics as a precaution. At which point I thought about entering into a scientific debate about the pros and cons of antibiotic use in these circumstances, and considered quoting Lord O'Neill's recent report on the issue and asking for a test. But to be honest I didn't quite have the energy for it, and neither, apparently, did Gail.

So anyway, after a weekend of light meals of chicken, plain rice and tablets, I am now feeling distinctly better, if not quite yet back to peak bouncing capacity.

Sunday, 12 June 2016

So when Gail told me she was a bit worried 'cos her brother Max is going to a football game at the Stade de France in a couple of week's time, I was, frankly, puzzled.

But Gail, I said, we pass by the Stade de France every Friday on our extended 'day off' morning walk. Surely there is nothing to be concerned about, except possibly your brother's sanity in wanting to come to Aberdeen to watch a bunch of overweight amateurs play five-a-side football on an artificial pitch?

Imagine how put out I was to learn that the ground pictured above is not the real Stade de France.

It seems that Max will be going to Paris in early July to see a Euro 2016 quarter final, and there are fears about terrorism at the tournament.

I think it would be nice if Max (and his wife Kathy, and their poodles Percy and Coco) came to visit Aberdeen instead and joined Gail and me on our Friday walk.

PS: Thank you to those who took part in the poll to decide whether or not my furs should remain in place. In the end the Outs shaded it by a single vote (a foretaste of the 23 June result, one fears?) No-one will be at all surprised to learn that Gail was attacking me with the stripping implement even before the final vote was cast…

Bertie post strip/trim

PPS: Hi to all our friends who attended the Blogville Awesome Retreat. Oh how we wish we could have been there too.

Tuesday, 7 June 2016

You know, I am beginning to appreciate that new technology, although it enables me to write a blog and share my thoughts and opinions with the world, does have its drawbacks too.

So I was all ready to greet Gail with the sad face, the droopy tail and the tales of hardship when she returned from her holiday in all those unpronounceable places. The sort of looks which, one hopes, will make her think I had suffered greatly in her absence and thus guarantee extra treats and cuddles until the guilt wears off.

Imagine my horror then when Gail bounced in last night waving her smartphone and saying "Hey Bertie, looks like you had a fine old time with Yvonne and Neil while I was away on my bicycle tour. Wasn't it nice of Yvonne to text me pictures of you enjoying a family get-together last Saturday night?"

And then Gail not only had the temerity to show me some pictures of her holiday, but also to claim there was no room in her panniers to bring home a doggy bag.

Post ride refreshment near Bileca, Bosnia-Herzegovina

Meal at Hotel Diamant, Bileca

Mountain track impassable on bicycles, Montenegro

Ice creams at Danilovgrad, Montenegro

Hotel Kosta's, Podgorica, Montenegro (aka Fawlty Towers)

Power cut in Shkodër, Albania

Coastal landscape, Montenegro

Waiting for dinner at Hotel Splendido, Kotor, Montenegro

Traditional Bosnian meat feast! (In Dubrovnik)

And I'm now wondering, did they ever actually get onto their bicycles?

Friends, I shall be catching up with you all when Gail has finished washing all her smelly clothes etc...

About Me

Hi, I'm Bertie, a wire-haired fox terrier pup. I live with Gail in Aberdeen, Scotland. An old Westie called Hamish used to live here but he died on 18th February 2010 (exactly the same day I was born). People tell me that he used to have a blog and that I have big pawprints to fill. That's a bit too much responsibility for a very young puppy - and anyway, I intend to make my own mark!
(Gail says that Hamish could certainly have taught me a thing or two about marking stuff....)